


Target Practice

by orphan_account, themysticalsong



Series: A Day At The Range [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysticalsong/pseuds/themysticalsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin decides Dinah needs a lesson in firearms. The thought of her being kidnapped again isn't one he ever wants to entertain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target Practice

“What do you know about firing guns, Di?”

Dinah looked up from the newspaper at the abrupt question, her glasses slipping down a bit. “Guns?”

“Yes, guns”, Quentin shrugged, sliding a plate of breakfast in front of her, before pulling a chair and plucking a toast from the tray, “I was thinking may be I could teach you how to—”

He trailed off, seemingly unsure. Dinah bit her lip against a smile, frowning to hide her amusement. “You want me to learn how to use firearms?”

“Yeah”, he took a sip of his coffee, “It could—uh—come in handy. And Starling PD does have one of the best ranges.”

Dinah hid her smile behind the newspaper— he was just so forgetful, sometimes. “I’ll think about it.”

—x—

Quentin’s case load was light, very light. It gave him more time to think and curse himself out. He’d let his wi..ex-wife get kidnapped. She was an ex-vigilante with no skills in weaponry, a fact that unnerved him tremendously.

Heading into the headquarters’ shooting range, he frowned. “Di, what the hell are you doing here?”

She turned towards him, pushing her earmuffs off her ears and letting them rest on her shoulders. “You said you wanted me to learn. This range has always been the best.”

Quentin opened his mouth to speak before closing it. “Di, did you say has always been the best?”

She sheepishly shrugged her shoulders, her gun hidden by the angle she stood at in the booth. Its unloaded clip rested on the cold metal table currently situated behind her back. “I might have.”

—x—

“No, not like that-”, her eyebrow arched, Dinah looked at her hus…ex-husband as he shook his head, stepping closer to her, “-here, let me show you.”

She smiled as he stepped behind her, his larger hands cupping her smaller ones as he ‘showed’ her how to correctly hold a gun. “See?”

Oh, bless. He probably thought she wouldn’t notice.

Dinah snorted, “Quen, I’m an ex-vigilante. I know how to shoot.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows shot up at his mocking tone as she looked at him over her shoulder. “Couldn’t tell from the way you were holding your gun.”

She rolled her eyes, turning away from him and taking the proper stance. She threw him a withering glance as he made a disapproving noise at the back of his throat, a retort at the tip of her tongue, “I saved your ass when we were young, remember.”

“Of course, I remember, Di.” He scoffed, sole motive riling her up. “It’s just, I never realized that you used a—”

Dinah arched an eyebrow at him, before turning up and shooting a perfect round,

“—a..a gun,” He finished lamely, even to his own ears.

Her smirk was positively devious as she turned to look at him, the gun dangling from her fingers, “You were saying?”

“Yeah, well”, he cleared his throat, a bit sheepish, “A little practice never hurt anyone. And as someone proficient in use of firearms,” he again moved closer, his hands around hers, holding the gun, “I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Ah,” she dropped her voice to tease him, adding a breathy quality to it just for that effect, “admit it, Quen- it’s just an excuse to have your hands on me.”

Her eyes widened as the tip of his ears turned pink, realising the meaning of her words. A faint blush rising in her cheeks, she once again took the position, his hands still cupping hers. “Show me what you got, Detective.” Knowing Quentin’s weaknesses provided useful when in need of a distraction.

Lowering his mouth to her ear, he fondly returned a, “As you wish, Canary,” before firing off another round with her help, of course. Maybe he’d challenge her to a shooting contest after, manage to get a giggle out of her. He sort of missed her giggles.


End file.
